Been In Love Before: A Novel by Bryan Mooney Read Free Book Online Page B

his father he was not very motivated about anything except soccer. He would practice his kicking at least two hours every night after school. His goal was to kick a soccer ball through a swinging tire to score a point. He always imagined it was the winning point. He kept trying.
    One Sunday night his father drove him to a nearby practice field. His dad was good that way—taking him to practice, games, and tryouts for the new kids’ league. Mickey wanted to make the team so bad he was willing to practice day and night. The skies were overcast that day and threatening rain. His dad watched and waited while sitting under a nearby tree.
    That gray day Mickey had spent the last hour trying to perfect his technique, but to no avail. It began to thunder and lightning, and soon began to rain. It was getting late. One more kick, he promised his father, and then they could leave.
    “Just one more, Dad,” Mickey pleaded.
    “All right, just one more, but hurry; I don’t like the looks of that sky.”
    He was determined to hit his target, and he raised his foot and kicked the ball. It sailed right for the center of the swinging tire, but right before it did, he was struck. A crack of lightning at his feet sent him hurtling through the air, and he landed against a tree with a broken leg and two fractured ribs. He never saw the point being scored.
    When he woke two days later in the hospital, he remembered nothing of the event, but life had changed for young Mickey. His father, a single parent, had died from the lightning strike. A wealthy Scottish family Mickey had worked for—cutting grass, shoveling snow, and washing their cars—adopted him. They lived near his home just outside Boston and had grown fond of him.
    He had worked in the family’s real estate business, Boston Real Estate Advisors, since high school. They started him at the bottom, working for minimum wage as a janitor during the summer, and he worked his way up. The family was known to be tough but fair in business dealings, and over the years, the company and the family prospered as a result.
    The accident and the loss of his father changed him: he became more aggressive after the incident and went from a carefree, happy-go-lucky kid to a very intensely dedicated young man. The lightning also changed his appearance, giving him a distinctive white streak in his ink-black hair that extended from his forehead to the back of his head. When he was angry, his dark eyes flashed an intense red, cobra-like warning to those foolish enough to cross this tall, muscular man. Very few people ever did.
    Mickey dialed her number again. No answer. Sunday? Where is she? he thought to himself as he watched a black-and-gold helicopter flash by his office window, heading for the rooftop heliport of the building. The side of the copter was emblazoned with a large initial R painted in bright gold. He was here. The one and only Fabian Rumpe.
    Mickey’s office was the corner suite on the top floor of the Boston Real Estate Advisors office building. The office was carpeted in white plush Berber wool, and original modern artwork adorned the walls. The floor-to-ceiling windows behind Mickey’s broad oak desk provided a splendid view of downtown Boca Raton to the west and the Atlantic Ocean to the east. The view was magnificent, and many times calming, but not that day.
    He heard the engine of the helicopter cease. Mickey was ready for him.
    Minutes later, when the door opened, the flamboyant presence of the famed Fabian Rumpe filled the lavish office. He walked in with his arms spread wide and a smile on his face the size of Manhattan. The pompous developer was a study in false bravado and joked with an uneasy laugh—always at the expense of others. Mickey did not care for him much.
    “Fabian, good to see you again. Have a seat and make yourself comfortable,” Mickey said in the most gracious voice he could muster. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
    “Scotch, or I think you call it